


Mire

by Merit



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: F/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5466953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days walking through another Kingdom swamp and Nick wanted to forget all about the strange Charter Stone they were seeking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bigsunglasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsunglasses/gifts).



They had spent three days walking through the swamp. By the end of day one, Nick had desperately hoped his nose would fall off. Anything to get rid of the rank smell, foul with a sharp sulphuric edge. By the end of day two, he couldn't smell anything, which had relieved him as much as it had disturbed him. By the end of day three, he only wanted to be free of the dark brown mud that squelched unpleasantly however he moved through it. The mist, light and surprisingly cold, had only seemed to intensify matters.

Lirael had a tired, pinched off expression and it was only the thought that she had seen him in much worse conditions – and you were also naked, his mind helpfully added – that left him with any dignity left.

Which wasn't much, all things considered. Since Nick had arrived in the Kingdom, it had been one misadventure after the other. Though Sam had reassured him that the others didn't perceive it that way and really, it was an entire new world. Nick didn't mention that Sam seemed to have coped much better at school. After three days of walking through a swamp, he might, next time he saw him. If he ever managed to escape the fetid mess. Ultimately, Nick decided, Sam was to blame.

It was Sam who had discovered the obscure reference to an ancient Charter Stone, quite far north. A Charter Stone that survived constant exposure to the swamp that had once teemed with Free Magic creatures before they had been banished by a long ago Abhorsen. “One of the most northern Charter Stones, almost not in the kingdom,” Touchstone had commented, rubbing his chin and looking thoughtful before shaking his head ruefully. “I've never managed to reach it and there's been no request by any local villagers. If there's anyone left alive up there.”

Nick and Lirael had certainly seen no one since they had departed the last village, almost five days ago. Inwardly, as he cursed Sam, Nick also cursed himself. The Charter mark on his head had never faded since he had reached the Kingdom again. He had soon grown used to the custom the people had, of testing his Charter mark and commenting that they saw marks they had never seen before. Nick had tried experimenting but despite his studies of the Charter, the sheer quantity meant he was lost in the rush of Charter. Sam had laughed, saying that no one could know every Charter mark. Apparently there was no dictionary at all which Nick was slightly bitter about. He had resolved to write his own, which was met with some amusement by all quarters. Lirael had said there were some commentaries in the Clayr Library but nothing exhaustive.

But it was the Free Magic that lingered in his blood and bones that worried him. Free Magic was viewed with suspicion in the Kingdom and while his memories of Hedge and Orannis were fragmented, he still sometimes woke up in cold sweats, imagining the terror if Hedge had succeeded. He would have died, his hand allowing this to happen, and the world would have been doomed. He was hesitant to even mention it, though he had noticed Sabriel watching him intently at times. She was the only Charter Mage and necromancer, he remembered. Oh and now Lirael.

Lirael was always a separate category.

Even after walking through the muck, Lirael had not taken off the bandolier of bells. They were filthy, like the rest of Lirael from the waist down, but she didn't take them off. Lirael had spent the past two evenings cleaning them, taking care to keep the clappers still, after they made camp on the strangely shaped scattered islands. It had almost been soothing, watching her golden hand flex and reflect the firelight, her brow furrowed with concentration.

“Is it much further?” Lirael asked, and Nick started, realising that she had caught him looking at her. He quickly turned, blushing furiously and coughed. He hoped the grime was actually useful for once and covered his redness. He kicked at some oily looking weeds resentfully.

“According to the map Sam made for us, no,” Nick said, which Lirael digested thoughtfully. Sam's map hadn't mentioned the filthy, terrible nature of the swamp. “The old Abhorsen who wrote about it said, after the village of Senith, it was only three days travel.” They had passed the village of Senith before venturing into the swamp. It was nothing more than a few crumbling stone walls and evidence there had been a great fire. Lirael had surveyed the village with a pensive expression on her face and Nick, not for the first time, wondered she was seeing. Or feeling. She sensed the Dead and a few years ago Nick would have laughed, thinking that the Abhorsens were a quaint tradition. But he had seen much since then and Lirael had been there to save him.

“I really hope the Charter Stone is close,” Lirael murmured, and Nick had to strain his ears to hear her over their slow travelling through the sludge, water cold enough to chill if not for the effort they exerted, walking through the swamp.

“Me too,” Nick admitted before swearing as his foot hit something and he was engulfed in pain. Lirael looked at him in surprise, her hand already reaching for her bells, her sword, her golden hand a dim flash in the subdued lighting. “It's fine,” Nick ground out. “I hit something big with my foot.”

“Hmm,” Lirael said, her hands relaxing once more. She peered past him, through the random pieces of debris and weeds. “There looks to be a platform there,” she said, reaching past Nick, her arm resting against his, her golden hand hitting the platform with a resounding thunk. “Did the writings say anything about this?”

It wasn't much of a touch. Nick had gone further with debutantes in Ancelstierre while waltzing under the watchful eyes of a dozen matrons. Lirael was filthy and wearing mail, so he was feeling that more than anything but still. With her dark eyes upon him, her face so pale it seemed to blend in with the mist behind them, Nick's throat was dry. He shook his head, clearing his throat, wincing when it came out high pitched.

“No, I mean – yes,” Nick said, wondering where his fabled quickwittedness had left him. Maybe he had left it at the Wall. The crossing had been a bit of a blur. “I thought it would be bigger.”

Lirael didn't answer. She was hauling herself out of the swamp, kicking her boots to get rid of some of the excess sludge, her face screwed up with disgust. Nick followed her. Then he paused, looking down at the stone between his hands. It was smoother and more even than any natural rock platform and when he squinted, brushing away some faded grass, the stone had several faded Charter marks coursing through it. Nick, as usual, didn't recognise any of them and he resisted the urge to curse. Lirael leaned his shoulder.

“Oh,” she murmured. Then she traced one of the Charter marks, “This means, uh, steadfastness? Someone wanted the platform to remain here for a long, long time,” she murmured. Then she pointed to a new one. “A mark for protection against the Dead, and that one, well,” Lirael frowned. “Only someone with a Charter mark can go up on here.”

“Why would anyone place a Charter Stone in the middle of a swamp?” Nick said. After three days he had some serious questions.

Lirael looked down and bit her lip. “The Kingdom used to have more people, two hundred years ago when Touchstone's mother was queen. But after all that time without a king or queen, and only the Abhorsens and the Clayr… Many people died. They were killed by Free Magic necromancers or even bandits,” she sighed. “That's why Touchstone is often out of Belisaere. He restores the Charter Stones and for that, you need Royal blood.”

Nick had heard parts of this before, but taken all together it was boggling. A man born over two hundred years ago is king. He could only conceive the reception it had received in Ancelstierre when Touchstone had originally become king. Filtered through a dozen messengers, he imagined his uncle receiving a sanitised version. His uncle had never believed any of that Kingdom nonsense. Neither had Nick. But here he was in the middle of a swamp with a woman who could make a Dead person talk.

“He does so many much travelling and that's why Sam wanted us to check it out?” Nick said and Lirael nodded. “I guess he and Sabriel deserve some time together.” She flushed and looked back over the swamp. “As a king and queen!” Nick exclaimed, hoping that made a tiny bit of sense. Lirael was silent for several moments before spoke again, carefully avoiding what Nick had just said.

“He'll probably come by Paperwing but we needed to chart this out first, check if there was even a Charter Stone here. The Charter starts to fade this far North,, this close to the Rift,” Lirael looked down at the stone again. “But the marks have stayed here since that an old Abhorsen was here eight hundred years ago. It must have been a very powerful Charter Mage,” she tapped one of the symbols. “Maybe even a Wallmaker.”

“Maybe Sam should have made this trip then,” Nick said dryly but Lirael just nodded.

“There's much for him to rediscover,” she said, standing up and shaking off some the dirt that had dried while they were sitting. She wrinkled her nose. “I miss the Clayr baths,” she murmured, before turning away quickly.

She seldom spoke of her childhood, of the Clayr, but Nick wasn't a total sap. Lirael wasn't an especially cheerful person, but it was more than just her Abhorsen blood that made her solemn. He was, of course, intensely curious. Lirael posed many mysteries. And because the Clayr could see the future and Lirael said they had seen the two of them together, hadn't she? Nick could have sworn she had, but his memories of his first time in the Kingdom often vanished under him. He wondered what else they saw of him. Of Lirael. If the Clayr saw the two of them together. He froze for a second and then shook his head ruefully. He just hoped Lirael remained oblivious. There were few people he would willingly traipse through a swamp and not manage to murder.

And Lirael was one of them.

“Here,” Lirael murmured, drawing his attention the strange platform they were on. “Up ahead there's a Charter Stone,” she squinted. “I think so, at least.”

There was a steady slope and soon they were both panting. Near the very top, they had to drag themselves upwards, using roughly carved hand holds, the Charter marks warm under his fingers. The moss almost caused him to the fall once or twice, but he managed to reach the top. He held out a hand for Lirael and she looked up at him for a moment before her golden hand was in his and he was hauling her up. Their bodies met in the rush, her warm breath in his face, Lirael's wide black eyes so close to his. He had wrapped an arm around her waist without even realising it. Nick dropped his hands and muttered an apology. He thought he heard Lirael mumble something back.

Sterling behaviour, Sayre, he thought. No wonder all those matrons had watched him like a hawk back in Ancelstierre.

This high up, they were above most of the mist and even the swamp didn't look so damn awful. Nick was recovering his sense of smell, much to his displeasure. Lirael had turned away, however and was walking to the huge stone, twice the height of a man. Nick wondered how they had even managed to get it up there. It was miles away from any form of civilisation – and Nick had sharply downgraded his sense of civilisation since coming to the kingdom. The stone must have been mined even further away. It reminded him of the strange monuments further south, far from even the Southerlings. He had thought, one day, he might visit them. Now, he hardly ever imagined leaving the Kingdom.

“It hasn't been broken!” Lirael exclaimed excitedly. “It must have been too far away, forgotten maybe during the Interregnum” she grinned as she said this. Then Lirael placed a hand on the Charter Stone and her face went white. For a moment she was absolutely still before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed.

“Lirael!” Nick yelled and dashed to her. Lirael was blinking, already, which Nick took as a good sign. He knelt, because after walking through the knee high swamp for three days it wasn't going to make a worse mess, and placed a hand behind her head. Her eyes focused on him, dark and alight with a flash of emotion before she was shaking her head, her dark hair falling across her eyes. “What happened?”

She was silent for several moments. “It isn't like other Charter Stones,” she eventually said. “It was… almost like it was Free Magic. But not,” her face screwed up with frustration. “This is a very, very old Charter Stone,” she said finally. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and stared at Nick steadily. None of the girls back in Ancelstierre had ever stared at him so directly, he thought with a gulp.

“What is it? Is there something on my face?” Nick asked, hoping it was something trivial like that. He had long given up on his hair; Kingdom barbers did not keep up with Ancelstierran trends.

“No,” Lirael said, though there was a quirk to her mouth. “It is just. The Charter Stone. It feels a bit like you.”

Considering Lirael had collapsed upon touching it, Nick wasn't incredibly keen to hear the comparison.

“Oh,” Nick said. Lirael had turned away again, reaching out to touch the Charter Stone again. Nick's heart seized in his chest but this time Lirael didn't have an adverse reaction. Instead, the Charter Stone seemed to hum and come alight with thousands and thousands of Charter marks that Nick soon despaired at the idea of creating a dictionary.

“Sam will want to hear about this,” Lirael murmured. “And probably Touchstone. It could mean different types of protections around Charter Stones. Maybe Touchstone wouldn't have to spend half of his life in a Paperwing,” she said, her eyebrows raised slightly as she smiled at him.

Nick laughed. “I'm glad someone is thinking of the king,” he said lightly.

“And,” Lirael said. “I might not have thought this if I haven't met you. If you weren't...” she waved at him, seeming to sum up his weird mixture of Free Magic and Charter with the motion, “You. It might have just seemed corrupted and not. Possible. To have this meeting between Charter and Free Magic. I've always been taught it was impossible. The natures of the two aren't complementary,” she said before shaking her head. “I've never been good at explaining things,” she said in a softer tone.

“I understood,” Nick said and smiled at her.

Lirael met his gaze and returned his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to N for the beta ^^


End file.
